Please read: I hope you all enjoy the latest installment and that the Ram, Flynn reunion scene was worth the wait. I'm hoping I got Flynn's attitude right lol. Anyway, liked I said earlier, I'm running out of ideas, especially for flashbacks. So any suggestions you have are welcomed. One last thing, this chapter is slightly darker than the others...you've been warned. Enjoy! R&R! ~Moore12~

Twelve

1991

I

He had promised himself he wouldn't let Clu break him. He hadn't let the MCP break him, hadn't let the realities of the old Game Grid break him, and he wasn't going to let one smug program who naively believed in perfection break him.

It was proving to be an easier promise to make than to keep…

Even though he had been locked up for what felt like forever already, he knew of the purges, knew that Tron had been de-rezzed and Flynn driven—the coward, he thought harshly—away. The system was being slowly destroyed, and it was hard for him to sit there and not be able to do anything…not when so many innocent programs were being thrown in the games…and eventually de-rezzed, often by him.

Snickering weakly, he had to hand it to Clu: he knew exactly what to do to break him.

What Clu didn't know? He had figured out a way he could possibly escape. Often times, the guards that took the conscripts to the elevator that led to disc wars weren't exactly—how should he put it?—paying attention. No, they expected the conscripts to be broken, to be hurt…and he wasn't either of those things. And he had to bet he was a lot tougher than any of them…and had a lot more he was fighting for.

Leaning up against the back wall of the cell, he saw the guards were approaching. Here we go, Ram, he thought, quickly calculating there was only a 30% chance he would actually escape. Low odds, but it's better than nothing.

As soon as the guards deactivated the force field—barking at him to get out and come with them like a "nice little program" (who did they think they were talking to?)—he got up slowly. Keeping his head down to not make eye contact, he walked meekly out of the cell trying to appear as unthreatening as possible.

They had gone only a few steps—the two guards had already started gossiping with each other, totally unaware of what they were dealing with—when he attacked. Because he caught the guards completely off guard, he managed to de-rezz both of them with ease.

Without even stopping to make sure the guards were de-rezzed, he took off, running faster than he ever had in his life. He had to make it to the large door he assumed was an exit before anybody realized what was happening.

He was almost there—even though the alarm had (finally) started going off, he hadn't run into any guards—when he realized something. The guards…had only come for him. His CPU burning, he realized he had most likely walked right into a trap…that Clu had realized he would try to escape and wanted to tempt him in an environment that he controlled. He probably made it so no guards swarmed me to give me false hope, he thought bitterly, fighting back a scream of anger.

Still, even if it was a trap, he wouldn't go down without a fight…and he could always turn the tables and retake his freedom once again. He took off running again; well aware that he had to reach that door…had to get there before anybody found him.

When he reached the door, there was nobody there. Maybe I was wrong, maybe it's not a trap, he thought as he looked around.

He was about to open the door—even though he wasn't even sure where it led to—when a familiar and chilling voice rang out. "Well, well, well, what do we have here?"

It's over, he thought hopelessly as he turned to face down Clu, Rinzler and the Black Guard. At least de-rezz me fast…

II

He could have had the pathetic excuse for a program de-rezzed on the spot, but he decided it would be far more entertaining to keep him around and let him fight in the Games some more. Offering the conscript a smug grin when he turned to glare at him—yeah, you're real tough, he thought, laughing on the inside at the fact the two guards were practically dragging him along—he made a decision he knew he would never regret.

"You know, Ram," he said innocently, smiling his sweetest possible smile at the actuary, "We could…well…use a program like you."

He wasn't surprised when Ram, shooting him a dirty look, muttered, clearly trying to maintain his bravado to no avail, "What? Ya need someone to de-rezz you?"

"Come now, Ram," he replied, feigning shock, "Why would I want to see myself de-rezzed? No, man, what I'm saying is we could use a vicious program like you."

He chuckled at the little program's reaction to being called vicious—he flinched and appeared repulsed…and afraid. When Ram didn't respond, instead opting to put his head down, he continued, "You see, man, we have a little…problem, one that needs to be taken care of immediately. And, like I said, we could use a vicious program like you…"

For a moment, he was certain the little program wasn't going to speak. A weighty silence settled over them even as they walked to bottom level of the arena, where he was holding all the ISOs. Finally, the little program spoke, his voice filled with unchecked malice: "I'm not you. Why send an actuary to do a virus' job? So…" he paused—afraid, aren't you? he almost laughed—and then continued, his voice now cracking, "Just…just de-rezz me, alright?"

"I'm sorry, Ram," he replied smugly, enjoying the actuary's pain. "That's not part of the plan."

III

The little program was already howling in pain. He didn't envy him that was for sure; when the rogue conscript had failed to act on the command he had been issued, he had been placed on a device that would, he knew from his experience using the device on prisoners, slowly absorb his functions. Glancing over at his master, he saw that he seemed to be enjoying the scene…seemed to be enjoying this particular conscript's pain more than any other. "So, what do you say, man? Are you going to help me out or not?" his master mocked the conscript who had already fallen silent.

To his surprise, as soon as they turned off the device for a moment, the conscript shot back, his teeth gritted in pain, his voice wavering, "I will never help you!"

"Brave words from a pathetic program," his master laughed, nodding for them to restart the device. "Since when do you care so much about ISOs?"

The device whirred to life, and, almost immediately, the conscript started screaming in pain. It was enough to make him shiver and, for a moment, he almost felt bad for the conscript who…looked vaguely familiar. Brushing the thought off—he deserves what he's getting, he thought—he glanced around the room at all the faces of the ten captive, unarmed ISOs who were chained to the walls, watching the scene in horror.

"What do you say now, man?" his master yelled over the conscript's screams, a grin forming on his face. "Do you want to help me now?"

To keep the conscript from de-rezzing, they turned off the device again. This time, he didn't have anything to say—no brave words, no defiance. He just stood there—his head slumped to his chest—whimpering in pain. He won't survive another go, he calculated, watching as the conscript slowly lifted his head and looked at his master, a broken expression on his face.

"You do realize it ends right here if you don't execute my command, don't you?" his master asked, sneering at the whimpering conscript. "You're going to sacrifice yourself for ISOs even though you know I'll have them de-rezzed eventually?"

"Alright," the conscript said brokenly, his face hardening, his eyes losing all of their fire. "I'll do it…but…you'll…"

He never finished the sentence. As soon as he was let down, he unhooked his identity disc and went to work…de-rezzign ISO after helpless ISO without speaking a single word.

Watching the conscript work—his face an emotionless mask, his eyes filled with regret—he knew his master had finally broken him…

2009

Flynn had thought he knew everything there was to know about the system. After the ISOs, he had been proven wrong, and he had changed his outlook of the world and the Grid. The ISOs—with their digital DNA and spontaneous emergence—were essentially the same as people…they would be his gift to the world, the proof that life in a way people could understand existed inside a computer. They would change everything—religion, science, philosophy—and nothing would ever be the same after he introduced them to the world. Humans…inside a computer, manifesting themselves just because of the right conditions: an impossible dream that had become a reality…something even he, the creator of the grid, had never expected. After the ISOs, he had spent little time thinking of anything else, and everything he had once deemed important became unimportant in the face of his discovery.

More than anything—or anyone, he realized with a pang—it was the programs that got lost in the shuffle. Programs he had stopped looking at as human…

Why he thought of that now—when he was staring what could be his death in the face—he didn't know. Maybe it was because Ram—the poor program he had essentially betrayed, the program who had known before anyone else what Clu was planning—looked so damn human as he crouched on top of him, his identity disc pressed too close for comfort to his neck.

With wild, pain filled eyes that spoke to all the agony he must have suffered, the little program studied him as if calculating how best he could kill him. His teeth were clenched, and, as always, he was an open book to Flynn. His anger, his fear, his resolve, his deep sadness, his pain…he wore all of his mixed emotions on his face as any human would. He was too human for comfort…and Flynn tried to think of him as layers of coding to no avail.

Ram was human…always had been.

Out of the corner of his eye, Flynn saw Quorra approaching, her identity disc ready to end Ram's…life. "It's okay, Q," he said softly, looking Ram right in the eyes as he said it to try to try to assure him he wouldn't hurt him…ever again.

The little program stared back at him questioningly but, quickly, he steeled himself again. Well, Flynn, this is it, he thought as he watched Ram raise his arm, readying himself to cut through his neck. It's been a good run. "Ram, bud, I'm so sorry," he whispered, not afraid to look the program that might end up his murderer in the eyes. "I never meant to hurt you."

He shut his eyes then and braced himself for the end. When it didn't come immediately, he opened his eyes again to see Ram staring back at him, a wounded expression on his face that was enough to tear his heart in two. Gone was the anger, gone was the fury…the only thing left was the sadness. Looking up at his arm that held the lethal identity disc, Flynn realized it was shaking. "Ram," he said, trying to sound reassuring, "Ram, it's going to be okay."

He regretted what he had said as soon as they came out of his mouth; I should have never told him everything would be alright when, to him, it never will be, he thought sadly as he watched the program's entire body tense. The fury reentered Ram's eyes, he barred his teeth once more, and he lifted his arm higher, preparing once again to strike.

And then he stopped. Quivering—it appeared to Flynn at least that all of the pain he had ever suffered was present in his eyes—he lowered his arm slowly and dropped the identity disc to the floor. With what could barely pass as a defeated half-smile on his face, Ram just slumped to the ground…his compassion having gotten the better of him.

Rubbing his neck, Flynn sat up and looked down at the little program that was just lying on the floor…completely harmless. It was clear that all of his fight had left him and, when he opened his eyes again, he looked away from him at first. When he finally returned his gaze, he offered him a weak smile and whispered in a small, scared voice, "De-rezz me. I…I deserve it."

"No, Ram, you don't," Flynn replied soothingly as he offered the program his hand to help him sit up. "I'm the one who probably deserves it after how badly I screwed everything up."

Ram didn't take his hand; instead, he pushed himself into a sitting position. A weighty silence descended on them as they just sat there, the gravity of what had happened washing over them both…changing everything, for Flynn at least, forever.

Finally, Ram broke the silence, his voice filled with such agony, it was hard to listen to him: "All…all of this could've been…avoided if you just listened…to me," he whimpered, staring up at Flynn with pain filled eyes that lacked their usual fire. "But…you didn't… 'cause… 'cause I'm just…"

Flynn didn't let the actuary finish his thoughts. Wrapping an arm around his trembling shoulders, he said kindly, "Ram, I don't know what they…did to you. But I'll tell you this: you're a…better person that most of the people I know."